Bowdoin Boys in Labrador by Jonathan Prince (Jr.) Cilley

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The latter we were quite surprised to find, and several went, out of
curiosity, and had the satisfaction of finding a small room, packed
with about fifty human beings, with no ventilation whatever, and of
sitting on seats about four inches wide with no backs. The people were
earnest and respectful, but did not seem to understand all that was
said, as, perhaps, is not to be wondered at, since they are the
poorest class of Newfoundlanders.

Indian Harbor is like so many others on the coast, merely a "tickle"
with three ticklish entrances full of sunken rocks and treacherous
currents. The small islands that make the harbor are simply bare
ledges, very rough and irregular in outline. The fishing village,
also, like all others, consists of little earthen-covered hovels,
stuck down wherever a decently level spot fifteen feet square can be
found, and of fishing stages running out from every little point and
cove, in which the catch is placed to be taken care of, and alongside
of which the heavy boats can lie without danger of being smashed by
the undertow that is continually heaving against the shore.

[Storm and fog] A two days' run brought us up to Cape Harrigan,
rounding which we went into Webeck Harbor, little thinking that in
that dreary place storm and fog would hold us prisoners for five days.
That was our fate, and even now we wonder how we lived through that
dismal time.

One day served to make us familiar with the flora, fauna, geography
and geology of the region, for it was not an interesting place from a
scientific point of view, however the fishermen may regard it, and
after the departure of the mail steamer, leaving us all disappointed
in regard to mail, time dragged on us terribly.

Two or three of the more venturesome ones could get a little sport by
pulling a long four miles down to the extremity of Cape Harrigan,
where sea pigeon had a home in the face of a magnificent cliff,
against the bottom of which the gunners had to risk being thrown by
the heavy swell rolling against it, as they shot from a boat bobbing
like a cork, at "guillemots" flying like bullets from a gun out of the
face of the cliff. One evening a relief party was sent off for two who
had gone off to land on a bad lee shore and were some hours overdue.
To be sure the missing ones arrived very soon, all right, while the
search party got back considerably later, drenched with spray and with
their boat half full of water, but the incident gave some relief from
the monotony.

Another evening several visiting captains and a few friends from
ashore were treated to a concert by the Bowdoin Glee and Minstrel
Club. All the old favorites of from ten years ago and less were served
up in a sort of composite hash, greatly to the delight of both
audience and singers.

[Abundance of codfish] At Webeck Harbor, which we came to pronounce
"Wayback," probably because it seemed such a long way back to anything
worthy of human interest, we saw the business of catching cod at its
best. They had just "struck a spurt," the fishermen said, and day
after day simply went to their traps, filled their boats and bags,
took the catch home, where the boys and "ship girls" took charge of
it, and returned to the traps to repeat the process. An idea of the
amount of fish taken may be given by the figures of the catch of five
men from one schooner, who took one thousand quintals of codfish in
thirteen days. We obtained a better idea of the vast catch by the
experience of one of our parties who spent part of a day at the traps,
as the arrangement of nets along the shore is called, into which the
cod swim and out of which they are too foolish to go. They are on much
the same plan as salmon weirs, only larger, opening both ways, and
being placed usually in over ten fathoms of water and kept in place by
anchors, shore lines, and floats and sinkers. Once down they are
usually kept in place a whole season. The party were in a boat, inside
the line of floats, so interested in watching the fishermen making the
"haul," as the process of overhauling the net and passing it under the
boat is called, by which the fish are crowded up into one corner where
they can be scooped out by the dozen, that they did not notice that
the enormous catch was being brought to the surface directly under
them till their own boat began to rise out of the water, actually
being grounded on the immense shoal of codfish.

It was a strange sensation and makes a strange story. All the time
that we were storm-stayed at Webeck the "spurt" continued, and the
trap owners were tired but jubilant. The "hand-lining" crews were
correspondingly depressed, for, though so plenty, not a cod would bite
a hook. It is this reason, that is, because an abundance of food
brings the cod to the shores in great numbers and at the same time
prevents them from being hungry, that led to the abandonment of
trawling and the universal adoption of the trap method. We did not see
a single trawl on the coast, and it is doubtful if there was one there
in use.

During these spurts, the day's work just begins, in fact, after the
hard labor of rowing the heavy boats out, perhaps two miles, to the
trap, hauling, mending the net, loading and unloading the fish--always
a hard task and sometimes a very difficult one on account of the heavy
sea--has been repeated three or four times; for the number of fish is
so great that the stage becomes overloaded by night, and the boat
crews then have to turn to and help take care of the catch and clear
the stage for the next day's operations. Till long after midnight the
work goes merrily on in the huts or shelters over the stages, for the
hard work then means no starvation next winter in the Newfoundland
homes, and the fish are split, cleaned, headed, salted and packed with
incredible rapidity.

The tired crews get an hour or two of sleep just as they are; then,
after a pot of black tea and a handful of bread, start out to begin
the next day's work, resting and eating during the hour between the
trips, and then going out again, and repeating the some monotonous
round over and over till we wondered how they lived through it, and
what was to be done with all the fish. When there is a good breeze the
boats are rigged and a large part of the weary labor of rowing is
escaped. How tired the crews would look as the big twenty-four feet
boats went dashing by our vessel in the fog and rain, on the outward
trip, and how happy, though if possible more tired, as they came back
three or four hours later, loaded to the gunwale with cod, and
thinking, perhaps, of the bags full that they had left buoyed near the
trap because the boat would not carry the whole catch. It is a hard
life, and no wonder the men are not much more than animals; but they
work with dogged persistence, for in a little more than two months
enough must be earned to support their families for the year. When the
"spurt" ends the crews get a much needed rest, and attend to getting a
supply of salt ashore from the salt vessel from Cadiz, Spain, one of
which we found lying in nearly every fishing harbor, serving as a
storehouse for that article so necessary to the fishermen.

As to the magnitude of the industry, it is estimated that there are
about 3,000 vessels and 20,000 men employed in it during the season.
Some of the vessels are employed in merely bringing salt and taking
away the fish, notably the great iron tramp steamers of from 1,500 to
2,000 tons, which seem so much out of place moored to the sides of
some of the little rocky harbors. The average catch in a good year is,
we were informed, from four to six hundred quintals in a vessel of
perhaps forty tons, by a crew of from four to eight men. The trap
outfit costs about $500 and is furnished by the large fish firms in
Newfoundland, to be paid for with fish. As the market price, to the
fishermen, is from five dollars to six dollars a quintal, the value of
the industry is at once apparent.

The great bulk of the fish go to Mediterranean ports direct, to
Catholic countries, chiefly, and also to Brazil. The small size and
imperfect curing which the Labrador summer allows make the fish almost
unsalable in English and American markets. Many of the cod are of the
black, Greenland variety, which are far less palatable, and are
usually thrown away or cured separately for the cheaper market.

All storms come to an end finally, and at last the sun shone, the
windlass clanked and we were underway. The long delay seemed to have
broken our little schooner's spirits, for after being out three or
four hours we had gone but as many miles, and those in the wrong
direction.

At length the gentle breeze seemed to revive her and we gently slipped
by the Ragged Islands and Cape Mokkavik. That Sunday evening will long
be remembered by us, for in addition to the delight we felt at again
moving northward, and the charm of a bright evening with a gentle,
fair wind and smooth water, allowing us to glide by hundreds of fulmar
and shearwater sitting on the water, scarcely disturbed by our
passage, the moon was paled by the brightest exhibition of the aurora
we saw while in northern waters. Its sudden darts into new quarters of
the heavens, its tumultuous waves and gentle undulations, now looking
like a fleecy cloud, now like a gigantic curtain shaken by still more
gigantic hands into ponderous folds--all were reflected in the quiet
water and from the numerous bergs, great and small, that dotted the
surface, till the beholder was at times awe-struck and silent,
utterly unable to find words with which to express himself.

The next day we rounded Gull Island, which we identified with some
difficulty, owing to the absence of the flagstaff by which the coast
pilot says it can be distinguished, and, after a delightful sail up
the clear sound leading through the fringe of islands to Hopedale, we
spied the red-roofed houses and earth-covered huts, the mission houses
and Eskimo village, of which the settlement consists, snugly hidden
behind little "Anatokavit," or little Snow Hill Island, at the foot of
a steep and lofty hill surmounted by the mission flagstaff. Here we
were destined to pass five days as pleasant as the five at Webeck had
been tedious.

[Hopedale] The harbor at Hopedale is the best one we visited on the
coast. The twelve miles of sound, fringed and studded with islands,
completely broke the undertow which had kept our vessel constantly
rolling, when at anchor, in every harbor except those up Hamilton
Inlet and Lake Melville.

About two miles south of us a vast, unexplored bay ran for a long
distance inland, while to the north, looking from Flagstaff Peak, we
could see Cape Harrigan and the shoals about it, the numberless
inlets, coves and bays which fill in the sixty miles to Nain. We were
very much disappointed at our inability to go north to that place, but
before our start from the United States Hopedale had been named as the
point with which we would be content if ice and winds allowed us to
reach it, and that point proved the northern limit of our voyage.

About half a mile across the point of land on which the missionary
settlement lies, is the site of the pre-historic village of "Avatoke,"
which means "may-we-have-seals." It consisted of three approximately
circular houses, in line parallel with the shore, at the head of a
slight cove, backed to the west by a high hill, and with a fine beach
in front, now raised considerably from the sea level. Along the front
of the row of houses were immense shell heaps, from which we dug
ivory, that is, walrus teeth; carvings, stone lamps, spear heads,
portions of kyaks, whips, komatiks, as the sleds are called, etc.,
etc., and bones innumerable of all the varieties of birds, fish and
game on which the early Eskimo dined; as well as remnants of all the
implements which Eskimos used in the household generations ago, and
which can nearly all now be recognized by the almost identically
shaped and made implements in the houses of Eskimos there in Hopedale,
so little do they change in the course of centuries. The village has
been completely deserted for over one hundred years, and was in its
prime centuries before that, so the tales of its greatness are only
dim Eskimo traditions.

The houses were found to average about thirty-five feet across on the
inside; are separated by a space of about fifteen feet, and each had a
long, narrow doorway or entrance, being almost exactly in line. The
walls are about fifteen feet thick and now about five feet high, of
earth, with the gravel beach for a foundation. The inside of the wall
was apparently lined with something resembling a wooden bench. When,
in one of the houses, the remains of the dirt and stone roof that had
long since crushed down the rotten poles and seal skins that made the
framework and first covering, had been carefully removed, the floor
was found to be laid with flagstones, many three or four feet across,
closely fitted at the edges and well laid in the gravel so as to make
a smooth, even floor. This extended to the remains of the bench at the
sides, and made a dwelling which for Eskimo land must have been
palatial. The evidences of fire showed the hearth to have been near
the center of the floor, a little towards the entrance, in order to
get the most from its heat. The Hopedale Eskimo were themselves
surprised at the stone floor, but one old man remembered that he had
been told that such floors were used long ago, in the _palmier_ days
of Eskimo history, if such an expression is fitting for an arctic
people.

A village arranged on a similar plan, except that the houses were
joined together, was found to constitute the supposed remains of a
settlement on Eskimo Island in Lake Melville.

In both cases the front of the row is towards the east, and the houses
are dug down to sand on the inside, making their floors somewhat below
the level of the ground.

[Eskimos] A more thorough investigation than we were able to make of
the remains at Eskimo Island would undoubtedly yield much of interest
and value, for they were if anything even older than those at
Hopedale, probably having been abandoned after the battle between
Eskimo and Indians, fought on the same island, which has now become a
tradition among the people.

Five days were spent in this most interesting ethnological work, and
hard days they were, too, as well as interesting, for the mosquitoes,
black flies and midges were always with us; but on the other hand, the
Eskimo interpreter was continually describing some national custom
which some find would suggest to him, and very ingenious he proved to
be in naming finds which we were entirely ignorant of or unable to
identify.

The race as a whole is exceedingly ingenious, quick to learn, handy
with tools, and also ready at mastering musical instruments. One of
the best carpenters on the Labrador is an Eskimo at Aillik, from whom
we bought a kyak; and at Hopedale in the winter they have a very fair
brass band. The art of fine carving, however, seems to be dying out
among them, and now there is but one family, at Nain, who do anything
of the sort worthy the name of carving. Prof. Lee obtained several
very fine specimens for the Bowdoin cabinets, but as a rule it is very
high priced and rare. Most of it is taken to London by the Moravian
mission ship, and has found its way into English and Continental
museums. The figures of dogs, of Eskimos themselves, as well as of
kyaks and komatiks, seals, walrus, arctic birds and the like are most
exquisitely done.

The mission itself deserves a brief description. It was founded in
1782 and has been steadily maintained by the Moravian society for the
furtherance of the Gospel, and is now nearly self-supporting. There
are three missions of the society in Labrador, the one at Nain being
the chief and the residence of the director, but Hopedale is very
important as it is the place where the debasing influence of the
traders and fishermen is most felt by the Eskimo, and the work of the
missionaries consequently made least welcome to them. However, they
have persevered, in the German fashion, and seem to have a firm hold
on the childlike people which the seductions of the traders cannot
shake off.

There are five missionaries now stationed at Hopedale: Mr. Townly, an
Englishman, whose work is among the "planters" and fishermen; Mr.
Hansen, the pastor of the Eskimo church; and Mr. Kaestner, the head of
the mission, and in special charge of the store and trading, by which
the mission is made nearly self-supporting; Mrs. Kaestner and Mrs.
Hansen complete the number, and the five make up a community almost
entirely isolated from white people during nine months of every year.

The fact that the two ladies spoke very little English was somewhat of
a drawback, but detracted very slightly from our enjoyment of Mrs.
Hanson's delightful singing and none at all from our appreciation of
her playing on the piano and organ. To get such a musical treat in the
Labrador wilds was most unexpected and for that reason all the more
thoroughly enjoyed.

The mission house is a yellow, barn-like building, heavily built to
prevent its being blown away, snugly stowed beneath a hill, and
seeming like a mother round which the huts of the Eskimo cluster. The
rooms in which we were so pleasantly entertained were very comfortably
and tastily furnished, a grand piano in one of them seeming out of
place in a village of Labrador, but so entirely in harmony with its
immediate surroundings that we hardly thought of the strangeness of
it, within a few yards of a village of pure Eskimo, living in all
their primitive customs and in their own land.

A few rods behind the mission are the gardens, cut up into small
squares by strong board fences to prevent the soil from blowing away,
each with a tarpaulin near by to spread over it at night. In this
laborious way potatoes, cabbages and turnips are raised. In a large
hothouse the missionaries raise tomatoes, lettuce, and also flowers,
but for everything else, except fish, game and ice, they have to
depend on the yearly visit of the Moravian mission ship. She left for
Nain just the day before we reached Hopedale, and after unloading
supplies, etc., there, she proceeds north, collecting furs and fish
until loaded, and then goes to London.

About fifty Eskimos were measured and collections made of their
clothing, implements of war and chase and household utensils, which
are the best of our collections, for the World's Fair and the Bowdoin
museums.

After spending these five pleasant and profitable days at Hopedale,
and regretfully looking out by Cape Harrigan, to Nain, whose gardens
are the seventh wonder of Labrador, through which, reports say, one
can walk for two miles, and whose missionaries, warned of our coming,
were making ready to give us a warm reception; and near it Paul's
Island, on which was so much of interest to our party; all this we
thought of mournfully as our vessel's head was pointed southward and
we sped along, reluctant on this account, and yet eager to hear of the
success of our boldest undertaking, the Grand River exploration party.

At Aillik, where there is an abandoned Hudson Bay Co.'s post, we
measured a few more Eskimo, obtained a kyak, which a day or two later
nearly became a coffin to one of our party, and tried a trout stream
that proved the best we found in Labrador. In about an hour, three of
our party caught over eighty magnificent trout, and, naturally,
returned much elated.

The next day we poked the Julia's inquisitive nose into one or two
so-called but misnamed harbors that afforded very little shelter, and
had a threatening and deserted look which, although the characteristic
of the Labrador shore in general, has never been noticeable in the
harbors we have visited. Many of them are very small, and in some it
is necessary to lay quite close to the rocks, but yet we have had no
trouble from the extremely deep water that we were told we should have
to anchor in, nor yet from getting into harbors so small that it was
hard to get out of them.

[Tickles] As a matter of fact, experience has taught the fishermen to
use "tickles," as narrow passages are called, for harbors, that there
may always be a windward and a leeward entrance. In a few cases where
the harbor is too small to beat out of, and has no leeward entrance,
we have found heavy ring bolts fastened into proper places in the
cliffs, to which vessels can make their lines fast, and warp
themselves into weatherly position from which a course can be laid out
of the harbor.

Meanwhile we are again approaching the Ragged Islands, which we passed
just as we were beginning that memorable Sunday evening sail, about
fifteen miles from the place we so much dread, Webeck Harbor.

On them we found the only gravel bed we saw in Labrador, and yet their
name is due to the rough piled basaltic appearing rock, that proved on
close examination to be much weathered sienite and granite. The harbor
is an open place amidst a cluster of rocky islets, and we found it
literally packed with fishing vessels. Here an afternoon was spent
making pictures and examining the geology of these interesting
islands, and here the adventure of the kyak, before referred to, took
place.

Our fur trader thought he would take a paddle, but had not gone three
lengths before he found that he was more expert in dealing with Eskimo
furs than in handling Eskimo boats. He rolled over, was soon pulled
alongside, and clearing himself from the kyak climbed aboard, just as
our gallant mate, his rescuer, rolled out of his dory into the water
and took a swim on his own account. All hands were nearly exploded
with laughter as he rolled himself neatly into the dory again and
climbed aboard, remarking, "That's the way to climb into a dory
without capsizing her," as he ruefully shook himself. We wanted to ask
him if that was the only way to get out of a dory without turning her
over, but we forebore.

The next morning as we got clear of the harbor, a trim looking
schooner of our size was sighted just off Cape Harrigan, about ten
miles ahead. The breeze freshening we gradually overhauled her, and
finally, while beating into Holton harbor, one of the most dangerous
entrances on the coast, by the way, we passed her, and noticing her
neat rig and appearance guessed rightly we had beaten the
representatives of the Newfoundland law and the collector of her
revenues from this coast.

Mr. Burgess, who combines in one unassuming personage the tax and
customs collector, the magistrate and the commissioner of poor relief
from Labrador, afterward told us that the "Rose" had been on the coast
for thirteen years and had been outsailed for the first time. The next
morning we again beat her badly, in working up to Indian Harbor, and
only then would he acknowledge himself fairly beaten.

[Puffins and Auks] Saturday, the 22d of August, having yet three days
before we were due at Rigolette to meet our Grand River party, we made
memorable in the annals of the puffins and auks of the Heron Islands
by spending three or four hours there and taking aboard three hundred
and seventy-eight of them. Many more of them were killed but dropped
into inaccessible places or into the water and could not be saved.

The sound of the fusilade from over twenty gunners must have resembled
a small battle, but it did not drive the birds away, and as we left
they seemed thicker than ever. Not only was the air alive with them,
but as one walked along the cliffs they would dart swiftly out of
holes in the rocks or crevices, so the earth, too, seemed full of
them. It was great sport for a time, but soon seemed too much like
slaughter, and we would let the awkward puffins, with their foolish
eyes and Roman noses, come blundering along within a few feet of our
muzzles, and chose rather the graceful, swift motioned auks and
guillemots, whose rapid flight made them far more sportsmanlike game.

The next day, though Sunday, had to be spent in taking care of the
best specimens, and the game was not fully disposed of for several
days. Our bill of fare was correspondingly improved for a few days.

Three days were consumed in beating up to Rigolette. At Indian Harbor
we had heard rumors of the return of some party from Grand River on
account of injuries received by one of the men, but the description
applied best to the second party, and we decided it must refer to
Bryant or Kenaston. Near Turner's Cove we found more rumors, but
nothing definite enough to satisfy our growing anxiety, and at last,
unable to bear the suspense any longer, three of the party took a boat
and started to row the fifteen miles between us and Rigolette, while
the vessel waited for a change of tide and a breeze.

Alternate hope and fear lent strength to our arms as we drove the
light boat along, and soon we came in sight of the wharf. There we
saw a ragged looking individual, smoking a very short and black clay
pipe, with one arm in a sling, who seemed to recognize us, and waved
his hat vigorously with his well arm. Soon we recognized Young and
were pumping away at his well hand in our delight at finding his
injuries no worse, and that Cary and Cole were yet pushing on,
determined to accomplish their object.

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